Junction The Final Countdown - AC/NIO/EE/GA/Enclave/BotM Junction of Dromund Kaas/Centares/Lutrilla/Aruza/Hypori/empty hex above Sposia

[Ishida Ashina]

WHERE EVEN THE LIGHT HAS GONE ASTRAY
DROMUND KAAS | JUNGLES | DARK FORCE TEMPLE PERIMETER
BEYOND THE EDGE OF THE UNIVERSE,
THERE'S A KIND OF REAL DARKNESS
WHERE EVEN THE LIGHT HAS GONE ASTRAY

With sharp eyes, Ishida watched carefully for the Sith’s reaction. He did not riposte with brute strength or cunning slish-slash of his sword. Instead, his response was a simple Force Barrier. Her stars fell harmlessly to the ground.

The atrisian’s expression darkened. That would explain the lack of markings on the corpse at the roots of the tree she’d climbed. This Sith was particularly dependent on The Force’s tricks, less so his sabre. A wise choice, truly, considering the location. The temple’s existence created a nexus within a nexus of malfeasance and thus needed extermination.

With that learning observed, Valery had the opening to cut from the jungle’s perimeter and against their foe. Ishida was about to launch into her own attack, alongside the master, when she paused mid-reach for her sabre and doubled down against the girth of the branch she’d secured herself on in the treetop.

Her vision eclipsed, the world’s contrast dialling up into the blackness and making it difficult to see. It was as if the shadows had accumulated mass, and were pressing against her. Their weight on her shoulders, temples, the crown of her head. The Force’s imbalance tipped in favour of fear, and prickled along the Padawan’s spine to the nape of her neck. Her fingers clawed into the tree’s bark, grinding her teeth. Beneath her, she heard whispers of the fallen. It was as if she could see the Jedi who’s eyes she’d closed shaking their head at her, slowly and steadily rising to stand.

The mass she felt on her shoulders seemed to dampen and spread, darkness overtaking the entire vicinity. Failure. Her mission failed, and the jeers of the dead ricocheted around her skull.

Trapped in a balancing act?

Chasing monsters in the night, pretending you’re worthy? ​

Ishida gasped and clenched her teeth. Nobody knew what she was afraid of. Nobody here knew. This couldn’t be real. She murmured so to herself, and she heard the weakness of her own voice and despised it.

In the distance, on the ground, she was distantly aware of light cutting through the darkness. Pale violet sliced through the gloom without hesitation. It was enough to reduce the intensity of the broad attack of emotion.

Screwing her eyes shut, Ishida drew in a laboured, staggered breath to centre herself. Fear was meant to incapacitate. It was like a sickness, wretched, burrowing, all-consuming. It needed to be treated, stayed, or she’d never survive. Her family’s tenets blossomed at the fore of her mind, pushing through the dark clouds that gathered within.

Fear is absolute. Courage is a false virtue. There is only defiance in the face of fear. ​

It didn’t have to be overcome – not entirely, nor immediately – but she didn’t have to yield to it either.

Drawing in another breath, Ishida continued to recite her tenets inwardly. The fear remained but contained. Enough for her to attribute it to the source of the projection, and maintain a healthy fear of the maestro of malice.

Motivated by the premiere of her tenets, hesitation is defeat, the pale warrior launched from her high ground. A powerful blossom of telekinetic energy rolled out in a shimmering streamline toward the Sith Lord, before Ishida ducked and rolled her landing. On her feet, launching at the Sith’s right side, she drew her white blade to swipe at the open strike zones beyond Valery’s influence.

---

ALLIES | GA | AC | ENC | Valery Noble | PROXIMITY: Darth Ptolemis
FOES | SITH | BOTM | Darth Kentarch | PROXIMITY: Zlova Rue | PROXIMITY: Taeli Raaf

 

[Draco Miles]

Those that weren't, were thrown as far away towards buildings as possible.

While Draco certainly tried to keep the grenades pinned to them, some soldiers would successfully toss their grenades away while she kept some pinned to their users and unable to deactivate. She stared at them with rage through cracks in her rubble barricade to watch them struggle and squirm before they detonated. Force sensitivity was a blessing to her, it allowed for so many brutal ways to torture and maim people, so many creative ways for them to cling to hope of escape or living. Those she would choose to have their grenades pinned to them were located in the center of their brothers, so that when they ran, they’d have to run past them. If too late, they’d harm other chosen at the same time. She knew at least 3 should fall to this quick 5 second detonation, and after she’d be given quite the surprise: Zachariel had closed himself off from the Dark Side, severing his connection to the force.

As he struggled forth, Zachariel slowly closed his view on the Force, on the Dark Side. It was a crutch that too many used, but not him, and he would show Eina this error.

This would prove her perfect opportunity! Looking behind her at the fight, she gripped the back plate of the warrior and snarled before flinging him over her at his deployment of Chosen, smacking him right in the middle before trying to drop an adjacent building on him. Hoping his connection could not be reestablished that quickly. If it was, and he kept himself from being flung, she would instead drop the building on his soldiers and use that distraction of being crushed by rubble to charge forward and attack, once that damn light shut off. If he stopped the building to fall… well she was fucked, and her position would be revealed as she screamed out

“Shut that damn light off, woman! I’m trying to save your fething life I can’t move from here if you don’t!!!”

Tags: Zachariel Steelblood Eina L'lerim-Vandiir Percival Io

 

[Traden Avarice]

II: CLASH OF LIGHT AND SHADOW
​

Location: Outskirts of the Dark Force Temple
Attire: Standard
Loadout: The Harbinger, Lightsaber
Adversary: Darth Ptolemis


Traden closed his eyes for a moment, refocusing on the force. Despite his wound, he knew that he could not give into hate. He could almost hear the whispers of his late wife, gently whispering grounding words in his ear alongside the rain.

“...Traden…”

He opened his eyes, raising his head up and looking downward as his opponent as the apprentice drew a weapon from the earth for their skirmish.

“...She needs you…” He breathed in deeply, his mind falling back to the image of his daughter. Her beautiful eyes looking up at his. He needed to be strong. He needed to be there for her...

He could not afford to flirt with the dark side.

He tilted his head to the side again, his stance shifting backwards on his heel as he observed the staff that the enemy now wielded. It became apparent to the force master that this dark apprentice did not yet wield a saber of his own. Traden shifted his stance to his more traditional defensive form, curious as to what the enemies plan of attack would be as the lack of a saber put him at an obvious disadvantage in Traden’s eyes.

“Nice stick.” he said flatly and with an edge of amusement.

The apprentice began his attack, moving swiftly towards the master with impressive speed. Traden stepped backwards, not striking with the saber, but instead choosing to try to deflect the strike at his face with his other hand. The apprentice pulled him forward, causing him to react quicker than he had anticipated, bringing his arm up quickly and letting it bear the impact of the staff. The strike sent water spraying into Traden’s face from the staff. Traden blinked, momentarily distracted by the water. He chose to continue forward from the momentum already generated by the Apprentice, spinning over the apprentices head and landing in the water behind him.

Traden shook his arm that had taken the brunt of the attack, a numbing sensation obviously present. He turned around, raising his finger as if to pause the battle for a moment. He then trudged over to a tree and sliced off a large branch of his own with the saber, quickly trimming both sides of it with the blade. He then sheathed the saber, placed it in his leather jacket pocket, and proceeded to take the jacket off along with the shoulder armor, hanging it in the tree. He also detached the harbinger and slung it over a branch as well. Traden then turned around and trudged back towards the Apprentice armed only with a wooden staff of his own. He perfumed a couple of striking motions, testing the weight and balance of the new weapon before he let it come to rest in a forward position between him and the apprentice.

Traden smirked, bringing the staff up to his lips and giving it a kiss, then bringing it down to the ready.

“Let’s see what you’ve got, Sith.”

He lunged towards his opponent using quick and precise jabs at the mans torso, one to the left, one to the right. Not a man for eloquent and elaborate motions, the force master favored precision and technicality in his form in a way that favored the conservation of energy.

 

[Morrow]

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
KNIGHTS OF THE EMPIRE
Kyrel Ren | Iris Arani

At the price of several agonizing minutes and over a dozen Imperial lives, Morrow's contingent had established on the skirmish field. They had cleaved the assault in two, routed one end of the split, and regained ground. Yet, the carnage was far from over. The Maw were unceasing in their degenerate bloodlust. Death's momentum was uncompromising, fear's grip inflexible. One small victory seemed to do very little to sway what must have been the inevitable.

They kept fighting.

Fires ignored the deluge, turning the corpse fields into crematorium plains. Low heaps of limbs and corpses slowly enlarged with every wave. An end to the cannibals felt like myth. They held their position well, slowly skewing casualties in their favor, two lost for dozens of Maw. Unaffected, the dogged horde kept rushing forward. Every surge felt like the one that would finally break the line, but somehow it persevered time after time. Fortune didn't last long, though. Imperials and their impromptu allies soon began to fall. Something more needed to done.

A voice tore itself through the force. Either intentionally, or by fluke, Morrow could hear them with a sense beyond his ears.

“Come out wherever you are… I know you are there! Come out and I give my word I’ll save you for last!”

"Hold the line!" Morrow ordered before charging past the front.

His priority had shifted. Into the camp, Morrow followed the repulsive phantasmal scent of the fiend. Another opportunity to strike at the head of the snake had revealed itself. Through torched tents and broken bodies Morrow waded in seeking. It was with his physical senses that he heard the next call.

“There is a Jedi here! Bring him to me alive or else suffer like the rest of these infidels!”

Morrow stepped around a tent, in-between a flame and a trench. He could see the doomsayer from the back, a monster among even the cannibals he commanded. Ever prideful, Morrow would not take the opportunity to strike from behind.

"Jedi are the least of your worries, demon." Announcing himself with a tempered confidence, Morrow appeared stepping through a haze of smoke. "You stand before a Knight of the Empire."

Reignition of pale saber cut down two interrupting cannibals with little effort. Guts spilled, a head rolled.

"How would you like to die, scum?"

 

[Delilah Jones]

DAGGER-6
LIEUTENANT
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
SHITSTORM IN ATMO | DROMUND KAAS

ALLIES: Jon Kovacs | DECEASED Erskine Barran | NIO | Enclave | AC
IT'S COMPLICATED: Tren Chaar | Olly Piblarian | Mylo Thorne | Leon Gallo | GA | EE
ENEMIES: Tu'teggacha | BOTM | NSO | THE LAST STAND OAKS (TSE/SITH REMNANTS)
ENGAGING: Tu'teggacha ig, though we are pissing off Tren Chaar and co.
GEAR: Armour | Pistol | 2x Vibroknives | TIE

FLYING HIGH​

Bravo Flight, Dagger Squadron, 181st Fighter Wing Five: LT Jon Kovacs Six: LT Delilah Jones Seven: LOA Eight: LT Aayla Hughes Revenant Squadron Leader: CDR Tren Chaar Two: FLT Olly Piblarian Seven: FO Leon Gallo Eleven: FO Mylo Thorne Ashlan Crusade ADM Isla Draellix-Kobitana Brotherhood of the Maw TKMR Tu'teggacha Spoiler: Actions -Briefed to escort Imperial transports -Briefed to provoke Galactic Alliance fighters -Throttle up into the Alliance's flight vectors I yoinked this from Jon Kovacs who yoinked it from Tren Chaar , just because.

<You gotta be kidding me.>

Jon really chose a shit time to follow orders. Granted, Harkas was a right dick about it, so she couldn't really blame her flight lead, but damn. Del pulled a face as she adjusted her flight path, armaments primed.

:: Huh? Well, well, well... would you look at this? That's the Revenant boys' signature. Don't know if Hughes was around, but Del you'd remember - we flew with these pantsies in the civil war, right about when we graduated. :: before some lunatic had decided to give him the flight lead role. :: As much as I hate this suicide track the Bureau creeps got us on - saving the orange scrubs always brings a smile on my face, won't lie. ::

:: ... so let's fucking go. ::

<Well I'll be damned. This shitshow is about to get interesting with them around. It would be nice to shove their arrogance in their faces for a change.> she said. They were a right pain to fly with during the Campaign. <Damn pumpkins.>
And down the mouth of hell they went, the storm raging violently around them, the TIE protesting against the wind.

It was a mess through clouds, wind, rain and lightning, the sensors absolutely useless in the situation.

:: Goes without saying but - stick to visuals only. Stick close and watch each other's sides. ::

<Copy that. Provided we can see in this mess.> Del replied. Yet, the Brotherhood fighters were unmistakable even in the tempest. The trick was to not shoot anyone else by accident.

The ion engines howled even over the din of the storm before the Brilliant Missiles cleared away the Mawite bogeys from Mylo Thorne's tail from above. Hughes exacted the same amount of vengeance upon some of the Doomsayers that were converging on the B-wings.
Del leveled her fighter out to cut right into Mylo's flight path. She wasn't happy about it, but orders were orders were orders.
<You're welcome, boyo.> she told the Revenant pilot on the shared comms, not exactly pointedly, but not dripping with friendliness either. Meanwhile Jon's arrogant herald of their presence rang loud on the comms.

Well he'd gone put his foot in it.

The disdain in Chaar's voice could be cut with a knife. She couldn't exactly blame the guy - she'd be pissed off too if the roles were reversed. That was until the veiled threat was given over the comms.

"Don't make me tell you twice."

<Go ahead, Revenant Leader - you'll be doing the Empire a favour in shooting first.> she sneered as she fired a volley of Heavy Lasers at a Thornwave cutting into her upward angle.

Damn Jon and his damn arrogance coupled with his damn bad luck. What a combination. He was the right bloody fireship to send in to push the tension between the old allies over the edge and into war. As if there wasn't enough death and war already. Demici's near-dead body crumpled in the snow swam in front of Del's face for a second, making her jaw clench.

Maybe Harkas was the one that needed a wrench to the head for this.

 

[Eina L'lerim-Vandiir]

Lady Eina L'lerim-Vandiir
The First and the Light of Ashla
Heiress and Princess of the Eternal Empire and Terraris; Angelic Mascot and Representative of the Ashlan Crusade
Eternal Empire's Ambassador to the Ashlan Crusade; Matriarch of the Valkyrja; Leader of Sanctuary and the Fjölkyngi Smiđr Guild​

Location: New Kaas City, Dromund Kaas
Objective I.: Save the Children
Equipment: Sverð Fyrstr (swords) | Ljósspjót (spear) | Skrúð Engill Fyrstr (armour) || Empyrean gland | OPBC-01m || Current appearance
Writing With: Zachariel Steelblood | Closed
Allies: AC/EE/NIO/GA/Enclave | Heinrich Faust | Isla Draellix-Kobitana | Draco Miles | The Fool | Percival Io
Enemies: BotM | Open

[ War Music ]
<"High Nelvaanian"> | ~ telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >> ​

Oh, would he have been gen’dai? In fact, it could have been logical from his physique and height. Eina just nodded at what the man had said. She met countless very old demons or souls. There was no reason not to believe the man's words. Of course, even she knew that there were older people in the Realspace, and there were many older than her in the Netherworld.

"And yet, you're still not understand the cycle of life and death." she said however she was not mocked, Eina did not even know what mockery was; for all, it was just a statement from the Valkyrja.

Ashla not helped, the man just kept laughing in a crazy voice; he did not want the help, he did not want the salvation that the girl offered him. Almost everyone denies it all. Why? Eina never understood why someone didn’t want to be better, to develop further. True, she had seen countless demons before, countless people who had served Bogan and thought they would only get stronger by following their current path. They will not be. It was a false and bad way. Will the Force die? With that, the entire Netherworld would be destroyed, every soul! No, it never happens! She will not allow such horror. And then she didn't even think about living things. She couldn't imagine what kind of monster might want to do this.

Eina looked up at Zacharial, in her eyes there was no coldness, that was normal for Ingrid. It could have been the same as feeling like she is was able to saw his soul, but there were countless emotions in the Valkyrja's eyes, not just the cold

"You may be as old as you think you are, but you don’t understand either. The world does not work the way you think. The reason I and my people exist is to protect those you want to repress. Who you would throw in front of the dogs. You want the laws of the Netherworld in the Realspace. If you crave this so much, if you eager your death so badly, why not let go of your life?" she asked with infinite compassion, sorrow, and understanding in her voice. "Do you know that whatever you do in life doesn't matter over there?" she asked.

Ashla will help him and he'll see the truth soon. At least she was very hopeful. Anyway, now she has to do everything she can to stop the man. What the other, whose name she still did not know, said was the laws of the Netherworld. The guardian angel didn’t understand why he wanted them here in this world. Things should be different here than there. But even there were beautiful places surrounded by light and guarded; paradise, as many called it.

The winged woman felt the ice-cold rage and hatred from the man's direction that flowed in her direction. She continued to radiate peace, respect, peace, and regret, understanding to the man. Both in her stand and through the Force. No, it was not pity, she did not pity the man at all, she recognized him as a great warrior and respected him for his age and probably his knowledge. Even though they were standing on the other side.

Eina let the peace and quiet surround her, pour out of her, which is why she allowed Zachariel to get close to her. The woman lifted the two blades in an X-shape. Although she was able to block the attack, it was felt that she could hardly withstand the attack of a man much stronger than her because of the man's strength. The Valkyrja wasn't sure her intuition was right, but it was worth a try.

"Why do you hate life so much?" she asked softly, this emphasis was involuntarily exactly the same as Ingrid used when they were in a private situation and no one see or hear them.

 

[Mairéad Solus]

Alternate Location: Abandoned Sith ruin near southern Pole
Objectives: fight the bucket head
Tags: Vulcan Krayt

Equipment:
Velmorite bladed lightsabers
Comm device
Blaster pistol
Rappelling line
FC-20 Speeder bike
Marzanna

The woman watched at the mandalorian caught his fall and disappeared, she could only assume he was in the tower now? Above her, Kark!

She could hear the board creaking above, she hadn't come this far to be chased off by some armoured clown, she needed that bowl, and was going to get it. She eyed up the stairs, the chilling effect of her cryogensis had formed frost over most of the surfaces and the wooden floor, worn smooth over the years was now slick with a frozen sheen. She paused and held her breath, 3, 2, 1, go, she ran, up the stairs and in to a blast of flame from the waiting warrior. Mairéad felt the heat against her icy skin, it burned but the layer of frost provided a measure of protection as she let he legs go from underneath it and dropped to the floor, sliding on the ice past the doorway and behind a partition wall. It wouldn't provide much protection but she would have a moment to breathe and she was now on the same level. Mairéad looked at the small flames thay had caught on her outfit. She looked angrily at the flames and the sputtered out, almost as if withering from her glare as she chilled her clothes.

"Mando! If you are just here to rob me, I get that, we do what we have to to survive. You can have what I have already obtained and walk away no harm no foul?"

She hunkered down waiting for his response, her favourite saber was damaged but repairable, she had her second saber but would keep that unactivated to try and catch him off guard. Placing her hand on the wall behind her, fingers of ice snaked through it, reinforcing the thin material in order to protect her, her skin turned pale and her eyes darkened as she summoned her full strength. If he didn't take her offer, he would find this tower would quickly become an frozen tomb as the ice spread out from her, freezing everything it touched and chilling the air further.

 

[Blade Ice]

Post: 3
Objective: Battleborne
Location: Kaas City, Histroical District
Equipment: Orange Lightsaber (Fire) | Blue Lightsaber (ICE) | x8 throwing daggers | Poison Dagger | x5 thermal detonators | x8 Smoke Grenades | Brown MidNight Duster with Hood
Allies: The Mongrel | Keilara Kala'myr | Rowena | Kyrel Ren | Zachariel Steelblood | Erion Justeene
Enemies: DECEASED Erskine Barran | Pietro Demici | Baron Reinhardt Ström
Special Tags: DECEASED Erskine Barran | Annor E-059

---

The rains tarted to come down hard and hard as the orange eyed rebel devil caught the stare of the General their eyes locked in that moment, and they did not waver from one another. The Sith Lord strode forwards casually not hastening his pace as soldiers parted the way between him and his Target. Where the general led men and women into battle Blade had chosen to walk alone. He after the day his brothers stabbed him in the back on an ancient battlefield out of jealousy, he vowed he would never lead an army again. He would not trust others blindly enough to let fight wars for him because it only bred resentment. Since that day the had walked alone into ever battle he fought it was part of why the many sith empires that stood branded him a rebel and loner. That and his pure disdain for most authority figures who got lazy and stagnant in their positions or on their thrones.


His boots sank into the muddy parts of the broken road as he made his way to face the General Barren. He came near with in striking distance of the man where both could make out the features of the other. Blade's eyes stayed forward locked to the mans as he spoke his declarations and then asked his questions. The questions almost demanding of answers, but they seemed to be more out of irritations towards his son, the one called Michael. Michael had been the one who wanted this blood feud, despite Blade's granddaughter trying to tell him it was a bad idea.


"What is this Galaxy coming too, Imperial's demanders of Order inciting riots and Chaos." Blade quipped at first as his right hand reached up and pulled the remains of the death stick from his lips the cherry still burning bright though it was near stems end. Awkward silence then hung in the air for a moment as Blade continued to stare at the Imperial man.


"Not my clan, but my blood." Blade wasn't not Dathomiri nor did he have much love or care for the world. It was the world of his wife and the Clan of Howling Crags was the tribe of her family. His Children and grandchildren were the inheritors of his wife's legacy. So not his clan but his Blood, Blade pointed up at his orange sulfuric burning eyes. "This is my blood's curse passed down from my father, all who bare it are my blood." It ran deeper then the eyes other sith and darksiders had the orange eyes but Blade and his family were permanently tainted by the darkside the orange eyes were the outward signs of that curse.


"Your son declared a blood feud on my Granddaughters clan and by extension her bloodline. Your son was warned our bloodline is old and runs beyond the Howling Crags clan. Our numbers many our branches extend well beyond dathomir. Our lines mix and mingle into he houses of Marzullo, Draclau, Arceneau, and many others. Anaxes, Eshan, Hapes, Zonju five, Seoul Five, Randorn two, Pelgrin, and even Tython among worlds our Bloodline inhabits. He was given his warning and told not to seek the path he chose."


Blade wasn't trying to get the General to call off the feud it was to late for that he was just letting the man know how deep of shit his son had buried their family in. War had been declared there was no way for it to end until one family was gone from the Galaxy. Also, while they spoke Blade was calculating all the points of attack, he could strike from to assure an advantage. He knew he would need one, Erskine had an army at his disposal. That however made Blade's adrenaline flow even more he liked those odds, it made him feel young again like the days when he was young full of fire and anger as an apprentice challenging masters just to prove his mettle. In those days the fight was that of survival any fight you walked away from in the end was a chance to grow stronger.


Blade's eyes finally pulled away from Erskine as he reached towards his belt. "It's only fair you know your executioner, I'm Blade Ice, Darth Lucid to some and the Rebel Sith to many more." He smirked slightly as his hands reached to the back side of his belt where he pulled two-cylinder shape objects free. He then dropped the remainder of the death stick to the ground and put one cylinder in each hand and was about to ignite them and let that familiar snap-hiss engage the fight, but he stopped. He noted the knuckledusters they were all brandishing, he then quickly reattached one of his sabers to his belt pulled out the knuckledusters he had taken from the ashes of the vaporized soldier. He put them on then ignited his icey blue saber in his right hand that familiar Snap-hiss of it coming to life.


"Just know in a hundred years when the millionth new sith empire rises on this world long after your imperial order has turned to dust, and your family is gone, I will look back on this day Kid!" With out another word Blade's icey blue saber struck out forward straight for the general's chest, the move was simple an opener a test of sorts. It wasn't a fancy move one that wouldn't leave him exposed and was easy for him to pull back from if need be. Blade's right foot lunged forward with the strike but he kept his weight distributed evenly so he could easily enough bounce back or pivot on his left if he need too.

 

[Albrecht F. Herlock]

Objective III : Lightning strikes twice
Location: Dromund Kaas orbit
Equipment: uniform, custom-made blaster pistol, ceremonial sword, telescope

ALLIES | Galactic Alliance | Ashlan Crusade | New Imperial Order
ENEMIES | Sith Empire | Brotherhood of the Maw

Anaxes Navy Task Force 58 composition:​

Name​	Class​	Status​	Commanding Officer​
X101 Pride of Anaxes​	X100-class escort frigate​	Fully crewed, operationnal​	Albrecht F. Herlock​
X102 Audacious​	X100-class escort frigate​	Fully crewed, operationnal​	Lieutenant Commander Julius E. Mannerheim​
X103 Courageous​	X100-class escort frigate​	Fully crewed, operationnal​	Lieutenant Commander James Halsey​
CV-2 Tonnant​	Tonnant-class fleet carrier​	Fully crewed, operationnal​	Commander Erika Richthofen​
Silencieux​	Stealth Corvette Silencieux​	Fully crewed, operationnal​	Lieutenant Lucas Traumen​
AIV L'Effroyable​	Harrier-class heavy cruiser​	Fully crewed, operationnal​	Commander Louis Fort-Drake​
AIV Le Téméraire​	Harrier-class heavy cruiser​	Fully crewed, operationnal​	Commander Schwanhelt Bulge​
AIV Le Malin​	Harrier-class heavy cruiser​	Fully crewed, operationnal​	Commander Arthur Leywin​
AIV L'indomptable​	Harrier-class heavy cruiser​	Fully crewed, operationnal​	Commander Philippe Montcalm​

Legend: comm in, comm out, ship's intercom and broadcast system, crew

Stealth corvette Silencieux.
Commanding officer : Lieutenant Lucas Traumen

"Sir, we're picking many ships, but there's one familiar signature out there."

"Do you have the class of this ship ?"

"It's one we fought against last time Sir. A Samael-class frigate."

"Send immediatly a report to the Pride of Anaxes. We'll continue our scouting mission and wait for further orders."

"Aye Sir."

"Remember everyone, we'll stay silent as long as possible. Don't fire a single torpedo."

The small corvette contnued her mission, looking for other ennemy flagships.

Escort Frigate X101 Pride of Anaxes
Commanding officer : Commodore Albrecht F. Herlock

"Sir, we're receiving an encrypted message from the Silencieux. They have found a Samael-class ship and are still looking for other ennemy flagships."

"Navigation, take us near the the ennemy ship. Artillery, prepare to fire, but be careful, there are allied starfighters out there. I want all of our remaining ships to come with us. Tonnant, Le Téméraire and Courageous will stay in low orbit and bomb ennemy positions."

"Aye Sir ! Changing course right now."

The frigate, escorted by the heavy cruisers L'Effroyable, Le Malin, L'Indomptable and the figate Audacious, changed course and flew towards Tu'teggacha 's fleet, opening fire with all her front guns, targeting the nearest ship.

Fleet carrier CV-2 Tonnant
Commanding officer : Commander Erika Richthofen

The carrier flew to the atmosphere of the planet, escorted by the frigate X103 Courageous and the Harrier-class heavy cruiser AIV L'Effroyable. Once it came at an ideal position, Erika gave her orders.

"Prepare all bombers and their escort fighters for launch. Their mission is to annihilate the ennmy positions !"

"Yes Ma'am!"

One by one, the twenty four bombers took off, followed by three starfighter squadrons. The squadrons started to nose dive towards the surface and the two squadrons of DM&S-156 bombers started dropping their gifts on the ennemy positions.

 

[Erion Justeene]

​

Objective I: Found a fight, prepare for it.
Location: New Kaas City, Dromund Kaas
Equipment: Lightsaber, Voidsaber
Allies: BOTM, NIO
Enemies: AC/EE/GA/Enclave
Tags: Stone Gra'tua

Stone's hand had indeed grabbed Superious's wrist, and the shockwaves of pain from the now broken arm shot up into his shoulder and made his aura flare brightly. Superious swore obscenely and then aimed a very strong force push to break them apart. He needed to create a strategic breakpoint as his right arm was out of use, this will take months of heavy-duty healing to be right again. His arm was now pressed tightly against his chest to keep it from further injury. Feth Mandalorians and their feth-forsaken Crushgaunts.

But the good news is that he got in one more bolt of Lightning before his wrist was badly injured, so that was a plus. The Ubese fought down a wave of nausea from the pain radiating from his injured wrist. Keeping the instinct to throw up with pain in check, he was thinking about his next move, he was never the one to flee a fight and besides, despite everything thus far, he was very much in it to win at this point.

But it cannot go on forever and he was now at a physical disadvantage. So he had to think very quickly and calculated, but then it hit him, well most of it was the escalating pain and the realisation, he has a weapon other than a Lightsaber. He wanted to use it for a while but held off, but now was the time, time to see if it does what it says it does.

Superious unclipped the Voidsaber and ignited the blade, the newly acquired weapon felt different, but it wasn't a bad sensation, it gave him something else to focus on. Now he was able to regain lost footing in the fight, broken arm be damned. This time he waited for Stone to come to him and when he does Superious will swing for his chest.

<"Let's see whether the legendary Beskar is as impervious as they say it is!"> He taunts, goading Stone into the offensive.

 

[Stone Gra'tua]

Objective 1 : Hunt Sith
Location : Dromund Kaas, New Kaas City
Equipment : Signature/Profile
ALLIES | NIO | AC | TE DECEASED Erskine Barran Nukth Kelga'an Annor E-059 Hoken Stryte The Fool Pietro Demici Don Belkora Jerec Yularen Siv Dragr Mira Athrani Morrow Heinrich Faust Djorn Bline Thonn Rokkal Julian Qar Vulcan Krayt
ENEMIES | TSE | BotM | Keilara Kala'myr Rowena Percival Io The Mongrel Kyrel Ren Zachariel Steelblood |
Engaging : Erion Justeene

Stone's exultation at feeling the Sith's arm break was diluted by the blinding pain of being shocked by Force lightning, his entire body wracked with uncontrollable spasms as the Force based electrical assault coursed through him, and he almost passed all the way out from the agony. It felt like every nerve ending in his body was on fire, all at the same time. Finally, though it seemed an eternity, but was really only moments, he was able to unclench some of his much abused muscles.

He'd fallen in a heap while his legs and arms did the wobbly H, and in a clatter of plates and equipment, scrambled to his feet, still protesting painfully, as smoke rose from his beskar'gam to mix with the falling rain. His HUD was coming back online, momentarily scrambled by the shock, and he saw Superious drawing a strange looking blade; almost absence rather than physical form. Whatever the weapon was, Stone didn't recognize the type, he wanted no part of it. Knowing a direct attack would be countered by the Sith's danger senses, Stone aimed his attack elsewhere. Sharply, he bent at the waist as far forward as he could go, and ignited his jetpack's missile, directly into the rooftop at Superious' feet as he said something about Beskar.

​

Meanwhile, the subterranean sapping successes of the Clan Gra'tua Mando'ade continued, as they moved through tight tunnels beneath New Kaas City, deploying ersatz demolition charges across an ever increasing area of the Southern portion of the Sith city. Vansen, leading the Clan in Stone's absence, noted that Tank was dropping Death Cards every so often, and queried the big Houk. "The hell are you doing that for?" The Houk growled back "Leaving our calling card." She scowled. "When we're going to blow these tunnels to powder? Who's going to see them? Idiot." Tank had the good grace to look abashed, though he petulantly threw out a card every now and again anyway, which had Vansen shaking her head in disgust. Angry the Wookiee moved past his Houk brother, growling something in Shryiwook that sounded like "Dumbass."

Leading a group of rowdy and sometimes flagrantly disobedient Mandalorians was no easy task, though Vansen found her reputation for violence kept them in check. She had her own plan for leaving a calling card. She'd prepared a data package for their friends, with a lovely high-res digital image of their calling card, ready to transmit to their allies, along with the detonation code and frequency. In addition to this, there was a map of New Kaas city, with the explosive laden areas clearly marked.

Without both the correct code and the right transmit frequency, the mines, charges, bombs and other fireworks distributed under the cityscape by Clan Gra'tua wouldn't go boom. The Clan's calling card, along with the details, was pre-prepared, Vansen had only to finish the placement, update the map, and send the databurst on to the Enclave's allies, which she would do once she'd gotten her Clan well out of the blast zone.

Carefully herding the wild and crazy kids of the Clan, she ensured they covered a wide pattern of tunnels, sewers, and underground passages, leaving presents wherever they could do the most harm, but soon enough, she began to bring the teams back toward their exits. They did not want to be underground, or anywhere in the vicinity when the detonation code was sent. She saw in her HUD that the Alor had still not acknowledged her earlier message. Flagging a text message as highest priority, so he'd see it in his HUD, she sent it. "Don't be in the Southern section of the city." Short, sweet, and to the point. She hoped the old Shi'ido got clear, or he was going to be very unhappy.

Spoiler

Teams of Gra'tua Mandalorians continue to move through the city's tunnel network and lay explosives

 

[Mylo Thorne]

​

LOCATION: DROMUND KAAS AIRSPACE
MISSION: FIGHT FOR YOUR LIFE
CALLSIGN: REVENANT ELEVEN
EQUIPMENT: REC-AI01 A-Wing Interceptor
REVENANT SQUADRON: LEADER - Tren Chaar TWO - Olly Piblarian SEVEN - Leon Gallo
OTHER ALLIES:
Isla Draellix-Kobitana Jon Kovacs Delilah Jones
ENEMIES:
Tu'teggacha

​

"Damage El-five?"

He knew that he had sustained some real damage during his spinout, but from what he could tell now, the A-Wing was most definitely still flight-worthy and that was what needed now. The droid brain reported that he'd sustained some damage to shielding, and while it was still functional, it wouldn't be at its best. "Can ya take care of it? I've got some Brotherhood fighters to vape." What sounded like a chuckle came from the droid brain. Despite Mylo's reservations he knew that El-five could take care of it. Some of the sweat on his brow had dried and a peculiar sense of thankfulness filled him. Thankful that it hadn't all ended then and there.

Suddenly, his scope alerted him to numerous marks heading towards him. But this time, they weren't Brotherhood. He quickly checked his display just to make sure, and by golly they were eyeballs. The New Imperials had joined the party, though considering they had their own lane of attack, it surprised him. But any help was welcome at this moment, and he wasn't in a position it refuse it. Mylo shifted in his seat, turning to look behind him where he could just make out the cruciform shape of an X-Wing. Looks like help was here and Leon Gallo 's timely intervention would give him enough time to mount his own attack.

<You're welcome, boyo.> she told the Revenant pilot on the shared comms, not exactly pointedly, but not dripping with friendliness either.

Mylo watched as the ball fighter cut in front of him after having helped neutralise some of his opposition. While the GA was meant to be on cold shoulder terms with the NIO. He was grateful. "Thanks for the save." Mylo replied on the shared comm unit before switiching back to the squadron tactical frequency. Now it was time to exact his own vengeance on the squadron. A Thornwave, reeling from Leon and the NIO assault strayed into his flight path. Only noticing him at last minute, and began sloppy evasive manuevers.

The young pilot personally was somewhat skeptical of the opposition to the New Imperial Order. He had grown up during the era of the Sith-Imperial War and had seen Imperial pilots being awarded Alliance accolades and vice versa. But when this war had begun and he had entered the Academy none of that ever really seemed to matter anymore. Politics perhaps? Though, he had to admit the pulling out of the Bastion Accords was quite an unprecedented action. But he wasn't paid for his opinion.

He juked right and the Brotherhood starfighter jinked left. Mylo put the A-Wing into a tight snap roll, and he pulled back to let the fighter overshoot, but he couldn't get a good lock so they'd have to tango for a bit. Revenant Seven had scattered them effectively enough that he could catch this one its lonesome. He let the attacker get some speed, and he throttled up to around sixty percent to match, then reversed and let the attacker come out in front. He shunted power to weapons on his terminal, and switched his firing mode to overcharged. He got a lock, his crosshairs went green and he let off three slower but more damaging bolts at the engine of the enemy, before breaking off to avoid the explosive aftermath. Mylo then shunted more power to engines.

That was his fifth ever kill. He was an ace. But it didn't matter at the present moment. Mylo was out to survive, and the young starfigther pilot surmised that if he was going to do that, he would need to take care of the rest. Spotting another fighter making a break, he decided to catch it, pitching the nose of the fighter up up one-eighty degrees while simultaneously rolling before letting himself descend into another roll to try and catch the fighter on a turn. He continued to descend eventually joining the flight path of the fighter, right on its tail.

 

[Shai Maji]

DROMUND KAAS | KAAS CITY
ENCLAVE | DROMUND KAAS TASK FORCE |
ALLIES: Enclave | NIO | AC | GA | Thonn Rokkal | Kranak Vizsla | DECEASED Erskine Barran | Open
ENEMIES: Sith | EE | Maw | House Io | The Mongrel | Open
ENGAGING: Open
GEAR: In bio | Basilisk War Droid | Standard loadout | shield​

Spoiler: tl;dr

• Shai talks to the general
• Platoon commits atrocities and make their way to the historical district
• Shai weighs her options over hopping into an all-out brawl

THE MARK HAS BEEN MADE​

The General began to speak as the Mandalorian platoon engaged the enemy down the street. Bolts zipped overhead and bounced off armour as the warriors scrambled for cover. Shai peered through the rear window of the destroyed speeder to return fire before ducking from enemy rounds again.

The apology of his slip-up with the Mongrel was noted, though the impacts of blaster bolts against the speeder stole her chance of responding. With a growl she peeked out and dropped an enemy soldier with a few explosive shots. :: Come on, push up! :: She barked over the comms at her soldiers as she got up and blasted towards the enemy. The fight with the squad of troopers was quickly wrapped up and the group continued on.

The rain, despite the continuous shower, did nothing to quell the fires erupting from the buildings. Thermal detonators, missiles, cannons, rockets, anything that could bring a building down was thrown at the city. Explosions and gunfire echoed all around as the rest of the city was assaulted by pretty much every major power in the galaxy, and those not evacuated by the humanitarian efforts littered the streets and toppled buildings.

”A symphony of destruction.” Shai muttered over the clattering of rain against their armour. The street was quiet for now, allowing her to listen to the General’s words.

: :"But you best warn your subordinates against any further humanitarian efforts beyond those you're currently being bogged down with.... I understand, Shai. But just know this - every last one of those children are going to slit your throats as you sleep soundly tonight, using your clean conscience against you at the first viable opportunity. Sorry you had t'hear it from me, but you best clap them in irons if you wish to fight another day an' keep your Mandalorian superiors happy at the same time.": :​

: :"But enough o' that, nae need for a grillin' if ye can meet both obligations in the same day. Your presence will be needed in the Historical District when yer done.... I have plans to turn this place into the greatest moshpit this Galaxy's ever witnessed - an' it wouldn't be right without the Mandalorians chippin' in now, would it?": :​

: :"Its all about adhering to law and tradition today, Krayt, an' I'm sorry that war-crimes had to be a part of it.... I never wanted to be here, but obligations dictate,"A veteran of the Third Imperial Civil War leads the action." - doesn't stop us from having a little fun along the way though. Lance One out!": :​

Resting her rifle against a pile of debris, Shai removed her helmet and pulled out a nervestick as she listened to, and contemplated, the General’s words. It rubbed her wrong, his demeanour, his tone, and the words themselves. It felt patronizing as if he was speaking down on her. With the Sixteens, it would make all the sense in the world. But she wasn’t simply a commander in the company now.

Another long drag released through her nose as her crimson eyes turned to look at Kranak for a moment. The rain drenched her mane and the occasional blink escaped her from the reflex of droplets hitting her eyes. Not that it was needed anymore. The rain did nothing but help to sour her mood.

With a scoff she opened up her comms with him again. :: It’s only war crimes if they are people. So far I have yet to see actual people on Dromund Kaas. And General, you mistake our efforts for weakness. We’ll see you at the historical district. Wardog out. :: Her cold voice cut out as she ended the call with him.

Her attention shifted back to Kranak as she took another puff of her nervestick. ”Well that answers that question.” She grinned at the giant as she slipped her nervestick back into a pouch, ready to move out. There was still a war going, and their break was taking too much time from fighting.

They were on the roll again. She slid her helmet on as Kranak spoke up again.

<”Let’s hope we can find some Ultranauts on our way, then.”>

He earned a hearty slap to his back before Shai bumped her helmet against his. ”Got some beef with them anyway aside from that. They got a bunch of civvies at their side. If they don’t hand ‘em over, we’ll have problems. Those are perfectly fine potential Mandalorians they’re holding.” Her jetpack came to life as she led the way to the Historical District.

The General’s orders came through all of their comms, calling for a rally to take the fight to the Maw. Shai blinked in response as she fired her wrist rocket into an apartment window and flew off. :: I thought he was joking. Does he seriously wanna go hand-to-hand with the Maw? :: One of her clan asked over the comms. She shared that sentiment.

:: Man’s taken one too many knocks to the head. :: Another joked, earning a few laughs from the platoon.

:: We’ll weigh our options once we get there. For now, I still see people scurrying and buildings standing tall. Let’s get to work already. :: Shai chimed in as she altered course to another complex.

After a few minutes of fighting, the building came down and Shai moved on with her group. When they finally arrived, they got a front-row seat of the General’s grand plan. :: Alright, General, we’re here. :: She announced on the comms. ”This guy’s crazy.” She quipped casually, turning her attention to the troops around and behind her.

She was quiet for a moment as she thought over her choice. ”Kran. You see any other objectives? I ain’t hoppin’ down there if we got better things to do.” She asked the man casually.

 

[Vulcan Krayt]

Objective I: Engage in a fight for Sith Ruins!
Location: Dromund Kass, Southern Pole
Equipment: Sword, M.I. Beskar'gam Mk.1 M.I. 'Sunstroke' jetpack M.I. Model 6 hybrid pistol, M.I. Model 12 shatter rifle x2, Thermal Detonators, Magnetic Detonators, Perun's Call
Tag: Mairéad Solus

Vulcan had heard Mairead approach the stairwell and he went with the plan of blasting at her with his flamethrower, full pelt down the stairs, fire is lovely, and it was something he has been wanting to try for a while now and he knew that he hit his mark as the footsteps scrambled to avoid it. He wanted to walk down and blast a wall of fire as he did.

He was indeed committed to fighting. There was a pause in his momentary advantage, he had been listening to her, he was, after all, a very stubborn Ubese and not one to back down, he had been successful in two separate battles before.

No battle should be fought hat half measure. No exceptions, that was what he had been told, and this is less about trinkets and more about strategy, if he gets Mairead to give in and leave, he can then send a beacon to his fellow Mandalorians. What was happening now is that they were in a stairwell, neither moving up nor down. Vulcan's mind was made up, he will be staying to fight.

<"Actually, no, there is not a chance of me leaving, this is a great beacon point."> He says from his position, becoming unsettled as the floor began to freeze.

The Ubese scrambled onto a table to avoid being stuck, the heat retention is keeping him from becoming chilled down. But it won't be able to keep him warm indefinitely. He was able to keep his position, having easy access to the stairs.

He brushed his hand against his consignment of Thermal Detonators, unhooking one and began to consider hurling one down the stairs at her. His ears began to tingle from the coldness, his mind was made up, he armed the detonator and chucked it down the stairs, using the table as a shield, he braced for the explosion. Whether it detonates is another question entirely.

The thermal regulation is still working but, he was noticing a chill now.

 

[Marlon Sularen]

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F I N A L_C O U N T D O W N

FINAL DAWN
DROMUND KAAS , OUTER RIM

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BLACK SWORD COMMAND - TASK FORCE VADER
Commanding Officer : Grand Overseer Marlon Sularen [FDS Immortal] Second-in-Command : Admiral Kaine Hamilton [FDS Challenger]
Fleet Formation : Bull Horn Formation
FDS Immortal [Immortal Class] | [100 | 100] FDS Challenger [Invincible-Class] | [100 | 100] FDS Tyrant [Supremacy-Class] | [100 | 100] FDS Furor [Supremacy-Class] | [100 | 100] FDS Wyvern [Supremacy-Class] | [100 | 100] FDS Torment [Pelleaon-IV Class] | [100 | 100] FDS Defiance [Pelleaon-IV Class] | [100 | 100] FDS Retribution [Pelleaon-IV Class] | [100 | 100] FDS Judgement [Pelleaon-IV Class] | [100 | 100] x6 Tyrant-Class Star Destroyers SD-207 | [100 | 100] SD-213 | [100 | 100] SD-166 | [100 | 100] SD-203 | [100 | 100] SD-235 | [100 | 100] SD-222 | [100 | 100] x4 EF96 Nebulon-A Escort Frigates FF-53 | [100 | 100] FF-37 | [100 | 100] FF-36 | [100 | 100] FF-49 | [100 | 100] x6 Incursor-Class Light Corvettes CC-32 | [100 | 100] CC-31 | [100 | 100] CC-33 | [100 | 100] CC-20 | [100 | 100] CC-35 | [100 | 100] CC-21 | [100 | 100]

"Sir , incoming Transmissions."

This is Commodore Orys Draste hailing you on an open channel. I speak with the authority of Grand Admiral Caarlyle Rausgeber and the Imperator Rurik Fel. You are asked to stand down, stand aside, and depart. This airspace is hereby claimed by the Iron Sun of the New Imperial Order until military activities planet side cease. Proceed to depart, or face overwhelming force. It is your choice."

Classic New Imperials. Always thinking they were in control even outside their borders. Just like the Alliance it seems that they had grown a bit bold since Jedha and Nirauan , believing they could now bark orders at the Maw like if it were going to change anything. However this Orys Draste intrigued the Grand Overseer alot. Sularen had served within the New Imperial Order and the Galactic Alliance throughout the majority of the Third Imperial Civil War commanding New Imperial Forces throughout a majority of the Braxtant Campaign before being discharged while also briefly partaking in the Stygian Campaign during the negotiations at Tiss'sharl. The Politorate had a long list of Alliance and New Imperial Military Commanders at their disposal along with records of any distinctions and engagements they had participated throughout the Third Imperial Civil War and Second Great Hyperspace War , and yet the name Orys Draste was a recent one , one that had yet to be added to this long list of individuals. Nevertheless the Grand Overseer would be greatly interested to see how skilled this Commodore Draste truely was.

Grand Admiral Sularen? Is this even your rank? I'm uncertain as the entire military structure of your regime. Intelligence seems to vary between whether you're in charge. The monstrosity known as the Mongrel. Lord Halketh, or Darth Caelitus? But back to business, I am Admiral Regent of the New Imperial Order, Rausgeber. I assume it's through reputation we now meet. And your need to gain a reputation, leading you to move your vessels toward mine. And it appears you have opted to attack. Bold. Stupid. But bold. You must realise Grand Admiral, that you comparatively to the other members of your cohort, are a pion. An insignificant waste of skin. Whose ego will mean wanting to take my scalp. Something I will not allow to happen this day."

"But beyond that, you right now, are in an unenviable position. Being besieged on all sides by the forces of the Galaxy here. And yet you've decided to overextend your supply line, line of retreat to defend the dying regime of the Sith. Well not even the Sith, the inbred warren that is the Carnifex Clan.Interesting, is it not that you now sit here. In orbit. Moving to assail me. Presumably, not on your own volition. You strike me as a man, despite your present allegiance to be of logic and reason.Which is why, your presence here presently is so curious. I think you and I are similar Sularen. Obviously, maybe a deviation of seventy or so IQ points. But not necessarily dumb."

"If I were in your position, marshalling a large navy. A position I assume of esteem within your regime, would not sacrifice it for Drommund Kaas.It seems, you are whipped. Little more than an over glorified chaperone, at the beck and call of someone whose decided to sacrifice you in order to defend, and presumably extrapolate what remains of an Empire.An Empire which with some certainty would have tried to attack and destroy yourself, and your presumed superiors. And the one, we destroyed.Take it from me Grand Admiral. You are be playing for a fool by other a rabid warlord, or a eyeless fuck who can't hold an erection.And by deciding to follow through on that order you have chosen to envelop yourself into my maw, ensuring I will seek to tear your throat open and watch you die.

There he was. The Man who Sularen had sought. Admiral Regent Rausgeber of the New Imperial Order. Sularen chucked as he ranted as usual trying to make the Grand Overseer question himself and once more threatening him with death a threat which Sularen scoffed at. The Grand Overseer had already got shot in the stomach by an SIA assassin at Kril'Dor and nearly got Forced Choked to death by a Jedi Master at Jedha. These little threats issued by the Admiral Regent were nothing compared to the ones he had actually faced in the past. There was also the very fact in which the Admiral Regent revealed information regarding New Imperial Intelligence's limited knowledge regarding the Final Dawn as well as his thoughts regarding his presence here at Dromund Kaas. Once more the Grand Overseer found it amusing that the New Imperials thought that either Sularen or Caelitus were the Heads of the Final Dawn , a belief which was entirely wrong not to mention the fact that the Admiral Regent thought that Sularen was here to defend the remnants of the Sith at Dromund Kaas when he real objective was to annihilate the Allied Armada over Dromund Kaas and deal a huge blow against the enemies of the Maw. However Sularen had to admit , Rausgeber's little rants were impressive. Enough to make a second-rate Commander shit his pants and immediately consider retreat but as Rausgeber was about to discover , Sularen was no Second-Rate Commander. Rausgeber's was overconfident and somewhat egotistical and the Grand Overseer would use that to his advantage.

"We shall see who will die here today , Admiral Regent. We shall see" Sularen muttered to himself. "Begin charging our Superlaser Siege Canon target their Flagship. As for our Pellaeon-IVs at the front , have them unleash a barrage of Autocannons upon one of their Battlecruisers. It's about time we show these New Imperials what the Final Dawn is truly capable of doing" The Grand Overseer ordered. Soon enough the Superlaser Siege Canon of the Immortal began charging up as it locked onto the Flagship of Caarlyle Rausgeber while a trio of Pellaeon-IVs fired 3 shots from their Autocannons targeting one of the 2 Reprisal-Class Star Destroyers of Rausgeber's Fleet. Sularen wasn't the type of guy who liked to strike first but nevertheless , the Grand Overseer sought to vanquish the Admiral Regent once and for all and demonstrate to his former comrades in the New Imperial Order that he was a force to be reckoned with and that the Final Dawn was beyond reckoning. Thus the first shots of the Battle over Dromund Kaas had been fired as two of both the Brotherhood of the Maw's and the New Imperial Orders best Naval Commanders proceeded to duke it out for absolute supremacy over the Space around Dromund Kaas.

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Spoiler: TLDR

• Task Force Vader continues it's approach towards Rausgeber's Fleet
• The Predator's Superlaser Siege Cannon begins to charge up and locks onto the NIV Tregassar
• A Trio of Pellaeon-IVs fire 4 shots each from their Autocanons at a single Reprisal-Class Star Destroyer
• Fighters & Bombers have not yet been deployed and are still on standby for deployment [Not included in Post]

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Facing | Caarlyle Rausgeber
Nearby | Tu'teggacha | Isla Draellix-Kobitana | Tren Chaar | Leon Gallo | Jon Kovacs | Delilah Jones | Olly Piblarian | Mylo Thorne ​

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[Maestus]

Heinrich Faust

If she noticed the approach of the Ashlan, she did nothing to signify it. In fact, it almost seemed like she danced with more passion and abandon the closer he approached.

Hands and arms swirling. Head thrown back as maniacal laughter spilled forth. Feet spinning.

It was only when Heinrich spoke that she came to an absolute stand still. Chest heaving as she gulped in air. Lekku writhing, wishing to continue the mad dance.

The Light of Ashla deigns to approach little old me? To what do I owe the absolute pleasure? Perhaps you care to dance with me amidst the lightning and rain?

She did not hesitate in her motion, it was beautifully fluid and frightning all at once.

The fingers on her right hand twitched and the hilt of her light whip, Maestus Fury, slapped into her palm. It ignited the moment the hilt touched crimson flesh. A single tail erupted forth, a boiling red. She swung her wrist loosely, causing the whip tail to undulate at her feet.

Her left hand shot out towards Heinrich Faust . Before he could blink, shards of crimson electricity exploded from her fingertips, heading straight for the Ashlan.

She held it for a few seconds, before a conflicted expression came over her. Maestus tilted her head sideways and regarded Heinrich.

Where are my manners?! Mother would be so disappointed right now. Well, if she was alive. Which, you see, she isn't. My fault really. My Master brought her to me. Father as well. It had been so long since I'd seen either of them. The reunion was bittersweet, sadly. Emotions were running high with everyone, to be expected I suppose. And my Master, well he was very encouraging amd supportive through out the entire ordeal. Really couldn't have made it through without him. Remind me, will you, to thank him? Anyway, I'm getting off topic. Point is, I'd hate to live up to the ideals my parents attempted to instill in me. So, before you share the same fate as my parents, the niceties must observed. I am Maestus, who might you be good sir?

​

 

[Darth Solipsis]

DARK LORD OF THE SITH | VOICE OF THE MAW
Dark Force Temple
Noel Strasza

D A R K L O R D O F T H E S I T H





​

Fatigue wore down on him, his body fought harder to summon the strength that was his to command. As each bead of sweat rolled out from his pores, it became increasingly clear to him that despite being in a nexus, a natural vergence of Dark Side energy, whatever tricks utilized by the stranger would in the end have him at a disadvantage. His suffering companions began to collapse from the discarded canisters that had been taking far outside of the equation, emitting their gas after detonating. What little gas that remained by all accounts should have been spirited off with the destructive wave of Force arrayed against the Iron Maiden.

Dust, debris, and the surface of the stonework itself vaporized by the immense power unleashed. An exhausting act, one that he found had done surprisingly little to his prey. The Xythan shield generator roaring to life, wrapping it’s protective blanket around the anchored Noel Strasza rebuked his unrelenting force. Her body contorted as the brilliant net soaked in the malevolent energy. She stood upright in the aftermath much to the Dark Lord’s visible irritation. He acknowledged this one’s tenacity, but in the end it would be a futile effort. She would end up like so many others, dead and buried.

Her hubris would be short lived.

An audible growl rolled out from the Voice’s mouth. Before he could act, the raw energy absorbed by the force shield of the Lord Executor released. A savage retort to his destructive blow, his stained eyes glowed bright hot as they opened wide in momentary shock. His hands instinctively rose to protect himself, yet as he struggled to summon the Force to himself only the dimmest of lights shone forth in full blue brilliance from the collective palms placed together.

He felt his body lift up, even as he absorbed what energy he could through the act of Tutaminis, the kinetic force spirited him away without restraint. Heat wrapped around the Dark Lord, charring at his robes and at his flesh. The pain was grueling, unrelenting, a terrible source of anguish by which he found he may draw upon even as he crashed into the altar, shattering it’s form.

"You're right," at last, Noel spoke to him, her digitized voice cold and wrought by its inhuman projection, "and I thank the gods I'm not you, either."

The Iron Maiden brandished a cortosis blade from her being and charged with the electric fury of all those who were bound to the Will of Iron.

Emerging from the rubble and shattered stonework, the Sith’ari stumbled out to meet his foe. One foot in front of the other, he stepped forward struggling to shake off his disorientation. Dust and debris fell from his form, blood trickling down along his warm body. With a clenched hand the Dark Voice stripped away the tattered cloak that hung over his bare torso. It weighed him down, the seared and burned remnants were swiftly and violently discarded.

Pain was power. He dwelled on his injuries, the familiar strength that provided power and focus welled within him. Standing tall, the Dark Lord straightened his posture as the blade of his opponent came crashing down in the midst of her valiant charge.

Freeze.

His hand rose, calling upon the deep rooted wellspring of darkness seated upon the sacred earth of which this temple was erected. He channeled his pain, his frustrations, his anguish with force of will. Dampened but not defeated, the Elder summoned forth the ability of Force Stasis upon the sovereign sword of doom.

“You wish to appease your gods? Then appease them.”

His face scrunched together, his grasp attempting to wrench hold of the weapon itself with a telekinetic might.

“Go on. Bleed.”

He attempted to turn the Iron Maiden’s weapon on her, the cortosis blade a fitting weapon to use against one who relied so heavily upon trinkets and toys. His aim would be to cut her throat and leave the arterial splatter as a reminder who the fuck he was. If not, he would be content robbing her of her own weapon for the gratifying death by thousand cuts awaiting.

“Appease me.”

Noel Strasza​

 

[Darth Ptolemis]

Atmosphere II.

Traden Avarice

DROMUND KAAS
Objective II: Clash of Light and Shadow
Within the jungles surrounding the Dark Force Temple.

​

Orlov's underhanded attack with the staff had been averted by the Jedi with ease, who seemed to have an obvious advantage in the fight; his moves, his stance, the confidence radiating from his eyes confirmed the dark apprentice's suspicions. He was no Jedi scholar, but a Force-wielding soldier, forged in battle.

No doubt a painful block, but it was nothing for a Jedi of his caliber. This Orlov knew well. Following the Jedi's flip, Orlov sprung up on his feet, and his opponent had also regained his footing after landing; an interesting turn of events, for the apprentice had expected a swing of his lightsaber. Yet it did not happen. He instead raised his finger, as if asking for a break. The apprentice scoffed, an undertone of disgust painting his inarticulate grumble, and witnessed as the man relieved himself of his equipment, undoubtedly due to some misguided code of honor or righteous sympathy. The apprentice needed none; he is either weak and dies right here, on his first official deployment as a Mawite, or embraces the Dark Side and faces his opponent without hesitation. Despite his eagerness to reignite the engine of strife, he let the events play out, for if his enemy willingly cripples himself, he should be allowed to dig his own proverbial grave.

Right as the corrupted Fondorian is about to resume his sluggish orbit around the man, a ray of lifeless light is broken on a shiny object in the shallow pond, right at his feet. A dogtag. The apprentice reaches down and removes the object from the bed of the pool, cold water running down his forearm and dripping from his elbow as he reads the engravings on the piece of durasteel in his palm. Faint sounds of war reach out to him through the Force, echoes of what the object shelters within. The hooded stranger raises his head, and continues walking in a circle around the Jedi as he removes his lightsaber, his jacket, his firearm, and carves himself a staff of his own. Orlov takes this time to reflect on the glimpses of the man's past that he had experienced at the beginning of their duel and strikes out again with his caustic tongue. – I sense your past… Pain and anger pool into a stagnant puddle of loss. – The cryptic figure says, as he prowls around the man. – Take your revenge. Fulfill your retribution. – Theatricality and deception. A perfect pairing for the Dun Möch technique.
​

“Let’s see what you’ve got, Sith.”​

Even the rain seems to slow down as the two rivals come face to face. The apprentice readies his staff, holding it in his left hand as one holds a sword, with the intent of governing the space between them, and then replies. - I already possess your mind... Traden Avarice. - With that, the Jedi pounces at the Sith apprentice, quickly closing the gap between the opposing warriors, and thrusts his staff at his torso. The apprentice is forced to slide back in defense, towards the edge of the terrace, but manages to parry the first thrust, letting the weapon of the enemy rush by his ear – but the ferocity of his assailant surprises him and the Jedi's second thrust hits him square in the chest, close to his left shoulder. The Jedi's successful hit is amplified by the Force so immensely that the apprentice is lifted from the ground; spinning, flying, and finally crashing into the water. His own staff is lost, flung somewhere over to the side. The apprentice crawls forward, half submerged in the pond, dangerously close to the edge; the impact felt as if being gored by a bantha, yet the apprentice plays up its effectiveness even more. He struggles to push himself off of the lakebed, but then, suddenly, his pace takes a dramatic shift.

His arm snaps violently at the Jedi, attempting to push him away with the Force – his gloved fingers most reminiscent of crooked, predatory claws. Regardless of the Force power's success, he subsequently springs to his feet and from the dark folds of his oversized cloak his blaster emerges, firing round after round at the man without a saber – the weapon's quad discharges revealing glimpses of a pale, hateful visage on the Sith apprentice's face. As he pulls the trigger again and again, the apprentice is simultaneously sidestepping the man. He shoots until the entire energy cell is spent. By the end, the revolving muzzle of the blaster pistol is glowing red from overheating – it is not designed for such a barrage, and the energy cell has visibly melted into the housing unit of the weapon, rendering it unusable and irreparable in the process.

Unhindered by false views of honor, the apprentice grits his teeth, reveling in the aftermath of his brutal assault. As he throws his destroyed blaster over the edge of the terrace, he removes his hood; his formerly pale white eyes slowly manifesting a ring of orange around the iris.​

TLDR: Orlov and Traden continue to fight, but instead of lightsabers, they use their sticks.

Nearby: Ishida Ashina Valery Noble Zlova Rue
Ally: Anja Doreva & BOTM
Hostile: Everyone.​

 

[DECEASED Erskine Barran]

5th post
THE FINAL COUNTDOWN
Objective 1: Once More Unto The Breach
The_Woad
IMPAF-Command

313th Stormtrooper Legion,"Sabretooth Legion"

NIO: Jon Kovacs Delilah Jones Shai Maji Julian Qar Morrow
The Fool Keilara Kala'myr Don Belkora Annor E-059 Hoken Stryte
Bex Tarring Jerec Yularen

Allies: Vulcan Krayt Ingrid L'lerim Eina L'lerim-Vandiir Pietro Demici
Baron Reinhardt Ström Stone Gra'tua Siv Dragr Iris Arani Mira Athrani

Enemies: The Mongrel Rowena Percival Io Erion Justeene Zachariel Steelblood
Kyrel Ren Blade Ice

ERSKINE'S LOADOUT
Basket-Hilted Vibrosword Claymore
Fragarach Model Heavy Disruptor-Pistol
Sentimental-Value Fairbairn Vibroknife
Beskar Knuckledusters
Erskine's New arm

THE LAST DANCE: BARRAN'S FAREWELL TO THE SITH EMPIRE - PART 8

Historical District, Kaas City,
Dromund Kaas (870 ABY)

: :"It's only war crimes if they are people. So far I have yet to see actual people on Dromund Kaas. And General, you mistake our efforts for weakness. We'll see you at the historical district. Wardog out.": :

When our enemies eventually have the power to round up the last of us, I'm not so sure they'll look so kindly on our actions.... Oh, Dia. What the fuck have I done? I'm dragging heroes down to Hell with me now!​

'What is this Galaxy coming too, Imperial's demanders of Order inciting riots and Chaos.'

Interrupted from silent thoughts provoked by the private correspondence in his ear-piece, Lord Erskine couldn't help but chuckle, hearing the irony dripping off of Blade's coarse voice as he responded, and despite the circumstances, there was a detectable hint of praise in the way he spoke.

At least this one gets it too.... He actually seems to understand the concept.​

The individual standing before him was certainly seen as something quite intriguing to the Stormchaser's estimation, completely unlike any Darksider he had ever encountered before, and probably unlike all the others he would likely encounter in the future, only further-fuelling the Lord-General's curiosity in that moment. Smoking away at a deathstick until he pulled it away from his lips and lazily flicked it off to one side, Ice maintained his part of the mutual staring-contest as he continued,'Not my clan, but my blood.', recalling the jesting assumption of why he'd come so far to face Lord Erskine in the first place as he stopped himself in his amble. Smirking much like his Imperial enemy was, Blade then calmly retorted,'This is my blood's curse passed down from my father, all who bare it are my blood.', revealing a candour Lord Erskine hadn't expected of him before.

'Your son declared a blood feud on my Granddaughters clan and by extension her bloodline. Your son was warned our bloodline is old and runs beyond the Howling Crags clan. Our numbers many our branches extend well beyond dathomir. Our lines mix and mingle into he houses of Marzullo, Draclau, Arceneau, and many others. Anaxes, Eshan, Hapes, Zonju five, Seoul Five, Randorn two, Pelgrin, and even Tython among worlds our Bloodline inhabits. He was given his warning and told not to seek the path he chose.'

Michael.... I think I was wrong about you, boy.... I think I understand now.​

Pulling his gaze away eventually, Ice would be seen looking down towards his belt, reaching for the hilt of a weapon of which Barran couldn't quite discern the specifics yet, finally introducing himself as he said,'It's only fair you know your executioner, I'm Blade Ice, Darth Lucid to some and the Rebel Sith to many more.', with a renewed smirk as his icey-blue lightsabre hissed into life before the Woad could guess what sort of sword it was. Fortunately for the Lord-General, it didn't matters whether it was durasteel or beskar, vibrotech-composites or kyber, the ornate work on the basket-hilted claymore had attributes that Lord Erskine was fortunate enough to never have been in a situation that necessitated such a revelation. Never once believing his Vibrosword was old enough to retain the renowned Cortosis Weave, the Stormchaser (despite his nature and epithet alike) always assumed such a boon for non-Force Users could never rest within a sword wrought by Goidels, no matter how famous the smith or technician was known to be.

But Erskine was soon about to test that, and with a faithfulness that would frighten even the most meditative of Jedi entities.

'Just know in a hundred years when the millionth new sith empire rises on this world long after your imperial order has turned to dust, and your family is gone, I will look back on this day Kid!'

'Millionth Sith Empire? Unlikely, especially not if all the war-criminals like me are reducing their symbols to dust as we speak.', the Lord-General retorted, but maintaining an air of punditry as he ambled on. Bowing with sword outstretched low as he halted in his own reply, Lord Erskine then replied,'But do allow me to indulge in your formal introduction all the same - I am Lord Erskine Barran, Chieftain-Governor of the Goidels, Lord-General of the Imperial Armed-Forces and Sabretooth Legion alike, and the former Lord-Commander of Blue-Heart Brigade and the Galidraani Free-State's land-army.... A pleasure making your acquaintance, Lord Blade.', with a sense of sincerity that Ice would not have been prepared to experience in that moment. After the seven years Lord Erskine had endured as a part of the New Imperial order, the amount of foes willing to face him in combat were beginning to grow thin, depleting with every successful battle or war-campaign he played his part in, so the genuine sincerity would've been easy for Ice to read in the Woad's body-language.

'This curse you speak of, what you think it means for your granddaughter and my son - have you ever given thought as to what you might be up against? As opposed to,"Whom", I mean.... My last-surviving son, contrary to popular-opinion, appears to be something more than a mere Force-Adept Jedi, and word to the wise; Michael is steeped in esotericism now, an' the ones he surrounds himself with are pretty much even worse at the moment, he's even got a lycanthrope in tow now. "The Druid", is preparing every day for Khaostra, and so is everyone around 'im.'

'Honestly, Ice? I genuinely hope your family are ready for the storm that's headed your way.', the Woad continued, slowly reaching into his jacket pocket with his cybernetic arm to pull out his hipflask as his gaze drifted off, with head-shaking apprehensively for his opponent's sake. The only reason Lord Erskine was revealing all this to Darth Lucid was the fact he knew Lord Michael would want Khaostra's family to know, and had revealed as such in the still-scant Datapad messages that filtered through from time to time, a habitual trait of the Stormchaser that had permeated into the Wanderer more intensely than it had with his brother. Guzzling down the last third of the hipflask's contents, the Lord-General's eyes then drifted to the lightsabre again as he drawled,'Braw glow that, oddly similar to the one my son wields though.... An' for what it's worth, I'm happy at least you understand what I'm trying to achieve here.', slipping boots into attacking poise beneath him an instant later.

'Simple concept, am I-'

Distant coordinated walker-fire would be felt thudding underfoot first, then seen out the corner of Erskine's periphery to the north as a burst of gigantic muzzle-flashes, but when he saw where the shots were landing, the Stormchaser couldn't help but laugh uncontrollably. The Raider-ATs were out to make their presence felt in competition for the accumulation of the largest civilian body-count on Dromund Kaas, they were out to commit casual war-crimes like the Woad was, seemingly out with secondary orders like their enemies. Seeing walkers destroying entire city skyrises filled from ground to top floor with local non-combatants, Barran couldn't help but appreciate their commitment to wiping out a mutual enemy in the process of fighting the Imperium at the same time, though he couldn't help but laugh at the fact they could've asked Erskine to do it for them instead, as for once he might have actually accepted the request under the circumstances.

'Madness, absolute madness.... I LOVE IT!!!'

THE LAST DANCE: BARRAN'S FAREWELL TO THE SITH EMPIRE - PART 9

Historical District, Kaas City,
Dromund Kaas (870 ABY)

'I know they'll be aiming our way soon, but- ya just love t'see it in the rare moments, man.'

Further-proving that the Raider-ATs shots were intending to target the civilian population, more coordinated creeping-barrages rained down on the city blocks far off to the east of the Imperials' positions at the time, letting the ground constantly shake and vibrate beneath the boots of Erskine and Blade without cease until the second creeping-barrage ripped through entire streets and city-blocks with ease. He knew the Maw would be working atop the rubble to make life more difficult for them soon after, but Lord Erskine didn't mind, measures were being put into effect beneath everyone's feet, treads and tracks, and the ground and the sub-levels further beneath. This environment was to become the Woad's playground, becoming the crucible in blood before the fire cleansed it all of the sin everyone was spilling blood on, like it was some strange warfighter's summoning ritual, almost as if the Stormchaser was calling on the very lightning that flashed across the distant and near horizons alike.

: :"Alright, General, we're here.": :​

And the boots on the ground, all the boots on the ground, whether they were Ashlan or of the Galactic Alliance, of Imperial, Mandalorian or Mawsworn, all would seemingly act as Barran's witchpriests to summon the storm, or perhaps even summoning the very Crucible of War that Blue-Heart Brigade was known for charging into with infamously-reckless abandon.

'Black Stormtrooper will not be so tough, me think! Crack open like crab!'

'Hold on a minute-', the Lord-General muttered with eyebrow raised and cybernetic arm and hand outstretched in a silent momentary request for a pause to their own proceedings. It was coming from the right of Lord Erskine's periphery, and when his head turned to see who possessed such a loud, deep-booming voice, and as suspected, the individual was a large, muscular Mawsworn warrior with savage intent showing confidently for all to see. But everything then began to descend into complete mayhem around them, with the Sabretooth-troopers pushing hard infantry-oblique on the other side of the road, spilling out leftwards across the south-facing Mawites line, the very warriors who accompanied the fur-covered barbarian standing to Barran's right. The riot was well and truly underway by then, spilling out on all sides as the 313th and Elite-trooper alike left nothing to chance, leaving the Lord-General alone to duel with his own opponent in peace - a small blessing, fewer distracting words of encouragement to contend with.

'You talk too much.'

Exactly, kid.... Keep it up, an' focus on rippin' that dafty's heid aff an'aw.​

With Mandalorians observing by then, and with much and more owed to the Lord-General's joy in doing so, the Woad smirked again, locking stares with Lucid as his fighting poise was resumed underfoot. Lord Erskine's stance would drop to lower his centre of gravity slightly, and just as Annor E-059 was making her first heavy hits against the ox-man, the Stormchaser chuckled at the sheer madness of it all before concluding,'Shall we? Everybody else is now so- alright.... BEGIN!!!!', as his opponent impatiently nodded assent. Then, as soon as the Lord-General's commencement had been given, both contrasting embodiments of warfighting-excellence sprang forth, with weapons held one-handed, set in low-guard positions with the intent to swipe upwards with their first strikes. Both were feinting for directional switches mid-swing, knowing not of how and where either weapon would slash in the process until the instant they realised they were slashing out in similarly-opposite directions, misses on both counts.

'Being honest? I have no idea if this has a Cortosis Weave or not, Ice.... But I have faith that it does, an' my faith won't fail me tonight! Not here! Not on the one Sith planet I hate the most!'

Trusting in an old sword with a thistle-shaped pommel, Barran roared,'SINN'SEARAAANN!!!!', with all the might his aging lungs could give him, holding his guard hip-high with blade-tip pointing directly at Darth Lucid's face - then sprinting towards his opponent with a quickness he'd been improving over the course of that year with Rosk'Aiar. In an almost-instantaneous response, Blade would keep a low guard as he approached at walking pace, perceived as attempting to time his strike perfectly, though Lord Erskine had no idea what feint or fake his opponent had in mind for him. Fortunately for both fighters, Blade would surreptitiously bring his lightsabre overhead and strike downwards towards Erskine's head as the Woad himself slashed upwards towards it, this was the moment of truth that Barran was throwing all his confidence and belief into - this was instant where his fate would be offered to the Heavens.

And the Heavens would decide to smile on the Stormchaser, letting the Cortosis Weave activate on contact as both kyber and composite audibly, and visibly bounced off each other and sent the tips of both weapons careening off in different directions. The question had been answered, but did it change anything about either duellists need for a good fight? Not remotely, not while the Blood-Feud was gaining fresh momentum.

 

[Dagon Kaze]

THE FINAL COUNTDOWN
BROTHERS DIVIDED vol. II
Issue #0 w/ Aeric Kaze

The last time they had met, Dagon stared at a mirror image of himself. Raven black hair, albeit shorter and blue eyes only slightly marred by the sulfuric acid of the Dark Side. But now? A skin barren and devoid of life, cracked with crevices some as large as canyons. His veins like blue rivers curving across his body had dried out and gone black like the fissures that formed the lifeline of a volcano. Beneath it, molten orange breathed in and breathed out.

Dagon's stomach turned at the sight of his twin brother, malformed and corrupted to disbelief by the Dark Side. His heart cracked much like Aeric's skin, tears of sorrow rushed through his veins. Pain withheld for years now.

Nothing could prepare you for it.

...Run out of girlfriends to kill?"

His gaze darkened at the taunt and the hilt in his hand felt more and more as if it was an extension of his arm.

Steady, Kaze. Steady.

There is peace.

"I'll bury you next to our grandparents."

"You will try."

Lightning cracked through the air, lifting the hairs on his back straight, and his blade followed to meet the onslaught. The bolts crashed into the blue saber like a tidal wave and dragged his feet across the desolate land a few feet back.

"Look!!-- look at what you've done to your son, Haytham!!" the Knight spat in disgust, teeth grinding against each other as his free hand slowly moved to reinforce his grip against the barrage. "Sick..."

"You're sick!!.." two hands held the blade and squeezed it tight as his mind rushed to find the Light.

A glint of empyrean flashed across his gaze. A light against the dark.

"...but I am the cure!!"

The Force surged into his arms and swatted the lightning back at its creator.

And he lunged after it, after the brother he'd lost. The blade swinging at Aeric's hands.​

​

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